


Diagnosable Love

by PaintedPoppies



Category: Glee
Genre: 1954, Aversion Therapy, Homophobia, M/M, Psych Ward, Torture, kurtbastian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedPoppies/pseuds/PaintedPoppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 1950's, and mental health is in the dark ages.</p><p>Sebastian Smythe is a young mental health professional with a sordid past. Now he's following in his fathers footsteps despite what he believes. Kurt Hummel has been betrayed by the family of a boy he once loved and sent to a psych ward to be tortured straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Patient

**Author's Note:**

> Set in 1954 this story will contain homophobia, abuses of power, medical torture and cruelty. But it's Sebastian and Kurt, we all know these boys can't fight their feelings forever.

Dressed in a starched white lab coat, gray slacks with suspenders and a thin black tie Sebastian Smythe straightened up as someone rapped hard on his office door. The office itself was nearly unpacked, books neatly stacked along the bookcase-lined walls of the cramped Psych Ward office he inhabited, his doctorate hung on the wall behind his desk, graduate of the class of 1954. Unease curled in his stomach as a man with a dark, well-kept beard and mustache strode into the room, lip curling in distaste as his eyes fell on his son.

“How are you feeling today Dr. Smythe?” Conrad Smythe asked his second son, standing stiffly by the door, clipboard clutched in his tight grip as he narrowed his eyes, surveying the space but never quite looking directly at Sebastian.

“Well father, I’d like to get to work as soon as possible, I don’t mean to collect a salary and sit on me hands.” Sebastian shot back, staring directly at his father. Coming to work at the Psych Ward he’d known for far too long hadn’t been Sebastian’s dream and still wasn’t, but in keeping with the family tradition Sebastian was ready to take his brother’s place as his fathers pet project, even if the man seemed to despise the very sight of him.

“Then you’re in luck.” Conrad’s smile turned nearly wicked as he dropped the clipboard on his son’s desk and laid a heavy finger on the clients diagnosed disorder. “Aversion therapy, shock would probably be best as this client is resilient in his tendencies.”

“Homosexuality?” Sebastian kept his voice as steady as his tightening throat would allow as he pulled the clipboard out from beneath his fathers touch. “I take it this wasn’t a voluntary admission?” Sebastian stared back at his father, green eyes cold and dead as he clicked his pen and began to scan the chart.

“Hardly,” Conrad laughed, sitting on the edge of his son’s desk. “I take it you have no objection to the case?” he sounded nonchalant, but Sebastian new better than to ever assume his father wasn’t seething on the inside.

“He was admitted by a non family member?” Sebastian asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“We don’t require that it be a family member if the patient is over eighteen, you should know better, but no. It was the family of another boy he was harassing. They wanted to ensure their son’s safety as this mental perversion seems to be dangerously easy to catch, but you know that.” Conrad’s laugh was humorless as he stood. “Come with me, I’ll introduce you to your first patient.”

Chair scraping over the cold tile floor Sebastian stood, straightened his tight and buttoned his lab coat at the waist as he followed his father out of the office and down the hallway, catching glimpses of the late day sun through the barred windows lining the hall. A loud thud sounded as Conrad unlocked the door to the patient’s wing and held it open for his son to pass through first. The ward had once been shockingly white, but the color of the now dingy and putrid smelling hall was the last thing Sebastian thought about as the screams of the mentally disturbed reached his ears. It wasn’t always this loud, wasn’t always this wild, but this was where they kept the most dangerous cases, those not permitted time in the common areas, those deemed a threat to themselves, or others.

“He’s here?” Sebastian asks, keeping his tone mildly curious and unaffected by the sense of dread creeping under his skin.

“And sedated.” Conrad said, taking the clipboard gruffly from his son and stopping outside a quiet room.

“Sedated?” Sebastian balked, his brow furrowed in confusion. Sedating a patient diagnosed with homosexuality was uncommon but not unheard of in sever cases of aggression.

“He was in hysterics, completely delusional.”

“How so?” Sebastian asked, his heart picking up as he peered through the patient’s window, eyes falling on a beautiful boy with pale skin who lay tied to the bed, his body slack against the restraints.

“Thought the boy he was harassing was in love with him, all fabrications of the mind obviously, we have photographs of the boy for the aversion approach, though I doubt he will be an easy patient, I’ve discussed it with colleagues and if the perversion of the mind persists we will consider a lobotomy, but I figured we would give you the chance to fix him before we result to the drastic measures, no harm done if you make a mistake the first time around.” Conrad sneered, looking Sebastian over carefully as his son pulls back from the window with a look that can only be interpreted as dread or doubt.

“Thank you for the opportunity.” Sebastian bit his inner cheek to avoid making any inappropriate remark about the brutality of such a treatment for this diagnosis. While he’d learned in school that the lobotomy was the best approach to hard to fix cases there was something about stabbing blindly into the brain that made his skin crawl with disgust.

“I’ll leave you to it then, if you fail, don’t concern yourself too much, there will always be more clients.” With that Conrad patted Sebastian firmly on the back and turned to leave him, coat tails sweeping behind him as his heels clicked off down the hall, leaving Sebastian alone with the cries of the mentally disturbed.

The heavy latch on the door thudded as Sebastian wrenched it back, his stomach dropping as the sound reverberated through the floor. He stood still with his fingers curled around the clipboard. Kurt Hummel, age twenty, diagnosed homosexual perversion.

“Hello Kurt.” Sebastian said as he pushed into the room, leaving the door ajar as there was no fear of his client rushing him with those canvas straps keeping him down on the bed. When the boy didn’t respond Sebastian cleared his throat, taking a step closer to his patient though barely allowing himself to look at him. Aversion therapy would work. It would for the sole reason that when Sebastian allowed himself to let his gaze linger on Kurt for too long he felt his own stomach twist, the programed nausea stirring unpleasantly, though that could just as well be from fear, he couldn’t think like that, he wasn’t sixteen anymore.

 

Kurt heard his name called in a clear, clinical voice and yet his body was so sluggish, so heavy, he wondered if it were possible to slip back into sleep, to shut out the world, the cold, sterile pain that tore at him so viciously. But then it came again, clear like a bell, sharp and yet somehow, less cruel than the doctor who had met him at the gates, less tormenting in tone despite the intense similarity. Blinking open bleary eyes Kurt stared up, eyes burning as they peeled back like paste.

“Did they call my dad?” Kurt asked, his heart thudding heavy and slow against his ribs, body tensing as he realized he was bound to the bed, unable to move. Panic set in, his limbs jerking, eyes flaring wide in fear, blue pools swallowing the pupils that had narrowed to tiny pin pricks of black fear. “Please- he won’t know where I am, please I have to go home.” Kurt cried out, his voice choking as a sob broke through his words, tears brimming to fall down his cheeks, wet dripping into his ears though he could do little more than twist his head painfully to try and dry his head against the pillows. “Please.” His voice was hoarse as he forced himself to look up at his doctor, meeting distant, detached green eyes that seemed to be devoid of emotion.

“You aren’t a minor, there’s protocol to contact your next of kin, but he won’t be able to do anything about removing you from our care, until the treatment is complete.” Sebastian said, swallowing the lump in his throat, resigning himself to the job at hand despite the pit opening in his stomach.

“What- what treatment?” Kurt rasped, his fingernails scratching into his palms as he scratched at his palms painfully, steeling himself against the answer he knew was coming. He wasn’t uninformed, he knew that they did to people like him, people like Blaine.

“We will discuss your course of treatment further, but aversion therapy is the first step, should it prove successful, as it has for many healthy young men, then you will walk out of here perfectly capable of living a heterosexual lifestyle.” Sebastian said, his words on auto polite.

“A lie, perfectly capable of living a lie.” Kurt said, letting his head fall back against the hard pillow that held his neck at the wrong angle.

“Homosexuality is a mental disorder Kurt, it’s something you developed, and you aren’t to blame for what’s happening to you.” Sebastian said, speaking more to himself than Kurt now, though the boy’s words made him shiver. Living a lie, no, aversion therapy worked, it had to work.

“Ignoring all the studies of Kinsey and Freud to bolster your close minded abusive crap then?” Kurt spat back, a sudden thought making his confidence waver. “What have you done with Blaine?” he asked, trying to lift his head again to stare his doctor down fiercely.

Sebastian frowned, Kurt had a point, but Kinsey wasn’t taken seriously, and Freud’s comments on all humanity being bisexual would only be valid if it were true, which was not the case or else laws that permitted them to incarcerate homosexuals would simply not exist. The majority would be against it. Looking down at his chart Sebastian chewed at the inside of his lip. Blaine was the boy Kurt had harassed so readily that his family had turned Kurt in, why would Blaine be here? Of course, he knew from his father that Kurt believe Blaine to love him, but he would have let that lie go by now wouldn’t he?

“Blaine isn’t homosexual.” Sebastian said curtly, flipping the pages back into the proper order. Watching Sebastian saw several emotions flit over Kurt’s face.

“So he isn’t here?” Kurt asked, jaw clenched.

“No.” Sebastian was shocked to see his answer flood relief over Kurt’s face. Perhaps this was a serious mental case, perhaps Kurt, on top of his homosexual tendencies was mentally incapable of understanding returned affection. But, the more likely case was that Blaine should have been submitted to, but his parents decided to remove Kurt instead of subjecting their own son to the torments of aversion shock therapy and potential lobotomy. “Tell me about him.” Sebastian dragged the lone chair over towards Kurt bed and sat, crossing his legs to balance the clip board on one knee, pages curled back to a lined piece of paper so he could take notes.

“Why?” Kurt glared at him; the act more pathetic than threatening as tears still fell down his face.

“Because I want to understand you, I want to help you recover.” Sebastian didn’t meet the boys pitiful gaze, he felt like he was going to throw up, going to fold himself over a trash can and empty himself until there was no trace of his own sickness left to taint his mind.

“He loved me.” Kurt said dully, he didn’t sound uncertain, or incapable of intelligent thought, he just sounded defeated, beaten.

“In what way did he express this return of affection, in your file it says that you pursued him, it makes no reference to his perversion.” Sebastian admitted, knowing it was risky to admit these details to the patient, but wanting to hear what Kurt thought to be the truth.

“He didn’t return it, he kissed me, I didn’t kiss him the first time it wasn’t some gay assault.” Kurt froze, his eyes glancing up at the doctor; he didn’t look old enough to be responsible for Kurt’s mental, and psychical well being. “If I tell you the truth are you going to hunt him down?” Kurt spat, anger in his blue eyes. It struck Sebastian that his patient still cared about the boy he professed to love, in his files he had the signed confession from Blaine that Kurt had harassed him, tormented and chased him down.

“No, Blaine’s confession is about your disorder, there’s no president for his admission, your words are for your treatment alone.” Sebastian said, choosing his words carefully, but also holding nothing back.

“His- confession?” Kurt’s face fell, his eyes screwing shut as if to keep out the reality that had been thrown at him.

“I’d like to hear what occurred in your words, if you can.” Sebastian stayed silent as Kurt’s face distorted, lips trembling and falling at the corners, eyes pouring tears. A few minutes passed before Sebastian reached out, fingers curling around Kurt’s smaller hand. “I understand the difficulty, the sense of betrayal.” He said before he could stop himself.

“You believe me?” Kurt choked out, watery blue eyes slipping open.

“I don’t think you’re lying to me, I’m here to assess your mental state, and treat you.” Sebastian pulled his hand back suddenly, face going pale as he wiped his hand on the lapel of his jacket.

“Don’t worry,” Kurt says dryly, his laugh sharp and bitter as he continues. “Homosexuality isn’t contagious.”

 Sebastian tries to force a smile, but drops his gaze instead. Conrad must have known what this case would mean for Sebastian, he had to be strong, had to do well, if not just for himself, than for Kurt, if Sebastian failed a lobotomy awaited the blue eyed boy strapped to the bed. 


	2. Lazy Days of Summer

_Summer 1954_

Kurt stared at his reflection in the elongated mirror hanging on the wall of the country club, wiping sweat from his brow, splashing cold water on his face. It was a new gig, and going incredibly well. The band members were all older than him but the club paid well and making money singing was the only thing that made Kurt feel like himself. So what if the bobby sockers and letterman wearing kids his age at the club eyed him with mild interest and some distaste, when he took the stage they danced their hearts out, to his music. It was far better than serving drinks, which he’d done the summer before, this time around he wasn’t someone they overlooked, someone they looked down on, he was a star, at least he told himself that every time he got on stage. Never let the fear show, or you’ll be eaten alive.

As Kurt pushed out the swinging bathroom door and skirted the main entrance he ran into a group of guys standing outside smoking cigarettes, their wine glasses shimmering in the glow of the country club’s valet stand lights.

“You’re Kurt!” One of them said, nudging his friends as Kurt stood in the early summer breeze, letting it hit his face. His bowtie was already loosened; dinner jacket draped over one arm.

“That I am.” Kurt said, eyeing them suspiciously as he tried to gage what possible reason they could have to talk to him.

“You want a smoke?” A boy with dark hair gelled back stepped past his blonde friend and offered Kurt the cigarette pack with a friendly smile. It took Kurt a moment to stop staring into his gorgeous brown eyes to nod, taking a cigarette and placing it between his lips, leaning close to the boy as he lit a match to block the evening breeze. “You sound incredible, we were just talking about the music here, and it’s a vast improvement over last year.” The boy said, his hand resting on Kurt’s arm for a long moment as Kurt inhaled, stepping away so as not to blow smoke in his face.

“I appreciate that.” Kurt smiled, relaxing a little as he joined the line of boys leaning against the exterior of the building. When he’d been a bartender the year before, right after finishing high school, they’d told him to only use the employee entrances and not mingle with members, this year they told him not to act ungracious towards members should they want him to join them after a performance, which in his mind sounded like more work than it was worth. He usually cut out right after, driving the forty minutes back to his dad’s, until now.

“I’m Blaine Anderson.” The dark haired boy flashed teeth with his smile, holding out his hand again. Kurt shook it as he was also introduced to the blond, Jeff, a guy named Thad, and another by the name of Nick. “We’re going to cut and hit up this jazz club, you’ll flip your lid for this sound.” Blaine said, staring at Kurt expectantly.

“That’s an invite if you dig.” Jeff piped up, nodding his chin towards his convertible as the valet, a friend of Kurt’s named Sam, pulled their car up and climbed out.

“Sure, but the sound better be in the pocket.” Kurt said, grinning as he surveyed the rich boys carefully. They seemed nice enough, but he knew the type, rebelling to them meant listening to rock music and hitting up jazz clubs where the vibe was reminiscent of the thirties but with a kicking beat. He knew the slang, knew the vibe and could hang, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. For one, Blaine seemed too nice, and people like him, people who had more money than they knew what to do with, rarely paid him any mind.

Shaking off the judgments rattling through his mind Kurt followed them to the car, slipping into the back, getting stuck in the middle between Thad and Blaine. Sam gave him an odd look but Kurt just shrugged, gripping the seat as Jeff peeled off onto the main road, opening up full speed.

“Nice ride!” Kurt shouted as the wind whipped at his clothes, plastering his shirt across his chest, the chill in the air offset by the bodies pressed close against him.

“She’s Jeff’s baby!” Blaine shouted, gripping Kurt’s knee with a grin as they took a sharp turn.

“She’s got a little rattle.” Jeff yelled back, clutching the steering wheel tight. “I just don’t want to part with her and I don’t trust anyone touching her.” Jeff pet the dashboard affectionately, making Kurt smile. He grew up a grease monkey, but he’d never got to touch a vehicle like the one roaring beneath him now.

“I can take a look.” Kurt ventured, glancing at Blaine as the boy pulled his hand back slowly, fingers lingering on Kurt’s thigh a moment longer than would be deemed appropriate.

“You know cars?” Thad asked, perking up beside him. “That’s sick, my dad owns a dealership but I never get to look under the hood.” He said, pouting like what he just said didn’t make Kurt want to smack him, poor little rich boy. But, that was a harsh thought these guys were treating him well enough and they seemed genuinely interested in having a fun night out, which Kurt hadn’t had in some time.

“I grew up with a wrench, not a silver spoon.” Kurt shot back playfully, making Thad holler like a mad man as he laughed, Blaine smiling lightly as Jeff wrenched the wheel to the right. They were barreling down a dirt road now, Blaine leaning in to explain that the jazz club was down a ways on the right.

“It’s kind of a rough spot, but we ditch the tweed for leather and no one seems to think we’re out of place among the cats who play down here.” Nick said, leaning back to talk to Kurt as Jeff slowed, the headlights barely illuminating the road lined with tall trees swaying by.

“I’d love to see your definition of a rough spot.” Kurt laughed, feeling more at ease as the boys seemed at least to have a good sense of humor about their clear-cut class differences.

The club was kicking, Kurt found himself dancing with a pretty dark haired girl who could really swing, but after a few hours he needed air, he’d been drinking since they’d arrived. Stepping out into the cool of the night Kurt walked slowly around to the side of the building, lighting up the cigarette the pretty girl had given him. In the flare of the light he noticed someone else coming around the side, and while his knee jerk reactions was to disappear into the darkness he realized from the boy’s gate it was Blaine.

“Hey.” Blaine said, coming up beside him, leaning on the fence Kurt was sitting on, his shoulder against Kurt’s side. “I think I literally broke my shoe.” He laughed his voice clear and sweet in the night mingling with the jazz tunes humming in the air.

“I quit before I busted something more painful.” Kurt smiled, unsure if it was the way Blaine stood so close that made the heat curl in his stomach, or just the alcohol and rush of the night.

“Good, we would hate it if you got hurt and couldn’t perform anymore.” Blaine paused for a moment. “I would hate it.” He said, his tone dropping lower, the words not so much sluggish as hesitant.

“That’s quite a compliment.” Kurt said, his own voice filled with ease; if the rich kid wanted to compliment him he wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t flattered.

“No, I mean I sing but you- you sound like an angel.” Blaine pulled himself up onto the fence beside Kurt, once again his hand lingering on Kurt’s thigh, for balance. It had to be for balance because Kurt was not about to imagine that the gorgeous dark haired guy was actually gay, that wasn’t going to happen, it wasn’t that kind of night. Until it was.

Slowly Blaine leaned over, cupping Kurt’s jaw in the dark with ease and pulling him in close, holding still for a moment, their lips a breath away, foreheads leaned together.

“Tell me if you want me to let go.” Blaine’s voice sounded so far away, like he’s swallowed himself down and forcing air was too difficult.

“And if I don’t?” Kurt’s tone was more steady but equally quiet in the darkness, the smell of summer blowing from the grass to the trees towering above them.

“Then try not to fall.” Blaine said, leaning in to kiss Kurt, their bodies swaying on the fence slightly as the kiss went from innocent, testing waters, to a desperate pull with tongues and teeth tugging on supple skin. Kurt did fall, taking Blaine with him, leaning back into the support of the fence, Blaine’s hands pinning him to that spot, hips grinding together, Blaine’s lips moving to Kurt’s neck, sucking at his sweat sweetened skin. It was that which finally pulled Kurt out of the fire of the moment, his fingers uncurling from Blaine’s hair as he tried to catch his breath.

“Wait.” Kurt panted, breathing hard as he tried to see Blaine clearly in the darkness, his eyes adjusted enough that the light of the moon lit the look of confusion and fear on Blaine’s face. “I can’t hide bite marks, or hickies and I’ll get fired in a flash if I show up a mess to work tomorrow night.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that.” Blaine smiled back, brushing their noses together softly, and the gesture so sweet it made Kurt’s knees buckle. “I’m quite fond of your voice, I would never get to see you.” Blaine whispered, fingers releasing Kurt’s hip slowly, reluctantly.

“Not to mention the obvious I need my job.” Kurt said, his tone soft and playful as he inhaled the scent of Blaine’s hair, sweet with gel and product.

“I didn’t mean to – to put my own needs first.” Blaine said, smoothing down Kurt’s chest, playing with the buttons nervously.

“I’m teasing, I don’t think you’re some kind of rich snob.” Kurt assured Blaine. “I think you’re kind of gorgeous.” Kurt admitted, feeling the heat around his collar, glad for the darkness to hide his blush.

“Well I’m not a snob.” Blaine smiled slightly, kissing Kurt again, unable to stop himself.

“So just rich and gorgeous then? Aren’t I lucky.” Kurt returned the kiss, deepening it with a slide of his tongue, god, Blaine tasted far better than he smelled, and it felt so right in his arms, he wished the two of them could be inside, dancing to the now slow jazz music, and found himself swaying to the melody, Blaine leading him in a slow dance as they kept kissing slow and deep.

 

_Fall 1954_

Sebastian shifted, uneasy as Kurt told him the details of his first encounter with Blaine Anderson, the boy who, by the sound of it was either forced into writing a lie about his lover, or who outright betrayed him. There was no way Kurt, in his sedated state, could fabricate such an intricate description of only the first time he’d met the boy.

“I don’t want to go on.” Kurt said, twisting uncomfortably. “Can I be untied, it’s not like I can go anywhere everything’s locked, but I can’t sleep on my back, and my neck hurts.”

“I can loosen them, but it’s not entirely up to me, you had a violent spell when you first arrived.” Sebastian kept his tone as calm as he could manage as he clicked his pen closed and let the pages fall back into place.

“You’d be violent to if you were dragged here against your will, it’s prison, I’m in prison.” Kurt shot back, though the fight was out of his voice by the end of his words. “I just want to go home, someone has to talk to my dad, and he’s going to be so upset.”

“Because he’ll be told your gay?” Sebastian asked softly.

“No!” Kurt’s anger flared up again. “My dad knows, he’s going to be livid because I’m here.” Kurt let out a slow breath. “Just tell me what I need to do to get out of here.”

“If you respond well to the aversion therapy treatments, if you recover then they will let you go.” Sebastian said in a flat tone.

“They? You talk like this isn’t your sick little world I’m in.” Kurt growled.

“Sick? I’m not the one strapped down in a mental hospital Mr. Hummel, you are sick, and I will fix you or my father will, and you won’t like what he would have us do.” Sebastian snapped, standing quickly, tugging the restraints tight on Kurt’s arm before turning from him. Crap, his first client and he’s already acting like his shit of a father. “We’ll begin aversion therapy this evening, sleep, while you can.” Sebastian stormed out of the room, throwing the lock before walking fast down the corridor, through the double locked doors, straight to his office. He didn’t have time to unwind as a curt knock sounded at his door.

“How’s your patient?” Conrad sneered, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed his son with the cold eye of a medical professional who seemed to take more joy in experimental torture than helping his patients.

“All the trouble you said he was.” Sebastian said, sitting up straighter, matching his father’s expression of unfazed ferocity.

“And your course of treatment?”

“We begin aversion therapy, tonight.” Sebastian said cooly, pretending to look through his file. “I’m going to start with a course of apomorphine to induce nausea but if it proves ineffective shock treatment will be implemented.” He replied.

“Tonight? I must say Sebastian, I’m almost proud.” Conrad let the door fall closed, heels clicking sharp as he disappeared down the hall.

 


	3. Nobody Gets The Whole Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see the boys with some of the ladies in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after the first session as Sebastian goes home in the morning.

“Hello Darling! How is your morning going?” Quinn called as she slipped out of her convertible and untied her headscarf, waving it playfully at Sebastian. She wore a yellow flower patterned dress with a full skirt and lemon colored heels to match. To call her his sweetheart Sebastian would have to be high, but he didn’t actually mind spending time with the beautiful blonde, she came from old money but had a good sense of humor and was traditional in a way, which made her very prim and proper when it came to sex, which, considering Sebastian’s affliction, was rather ideal. Sebastian however had been expecting his sister to pick him up and drive him to the family home up over the hill that overlooked a broad lake.

“Better now that you’re here.” Sebastian said, kissing her cheek and catching the keys as she slipped around to the other side and lifted her skirts to slip in.

“Flirt.” Quinn smiled, but she was quick, and could read the exhaustion on Sebastian’s face. “I’m guessing your father hasn’t started you off lightly?” She asked, flipping her hair back up as she tied the headscarf in a tight knot at the top of her head and lowered her sunglasses.

“Brilliant as ever.” Sebastian tried to smile, but it didn’t last. “It was- a rough night, he’s pressuring me to be just like him but I have this patient, and I’ve never actually administered any for of shock treatment to someone myself.” He caught himself saying too much and shut his mouth. A normal girl would have shuddered, but Quinn placed one white-gloved hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“I’m sorry you had to work over night.” She said, pulling her hand back to smooth her skirts as Sebastian pulled out of the circle in front of the ward. “When I came by this morning your mother told me where you were, I could hardly believe he’d make you work so hard on your first day, until I saw him sitting on the back deck in a whicker chair smoking that dank old pipe.” She laughed, wrinkling her nose at Sebastian. That was another reason he liked Quinn, she could make even the most detestable people into mere caricatures of themselves with her breezy observations, and still even those insulted would find her a delight.

“I wish I had the energy to do something fun today, but I have work again later this evening.” Sebastian said, feeling guilty because if he was being honest he wanted to get back to the ward early, leaving Kurt in that state had been much more difficult than he’d imagined.

“That’s alright, your sister and I are going to a tea this afternoon with Darla Anderson.” Quinn chimed, tilting her head back to let the bright morning sun filter through the leaves and flit across her face. Sebastian was lost in thought when the name similarity hit him.

“Darla _Anderson_?” He asked, brow furrowed as he tried to remember if he’d ever met the girl, his sister Isabella has so many friends it was hard to sort them all out.

“Oh you must know her your father became such good friends with the Anderson’s last year when they all wintered in France.” She looked up sharply. “Well maybe you haven’t met them, you were still at University.”

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” Sebastian said, thrumming his fingers as he approached the broad gate that closed of their private land and waved at Carlos, an older gentleman who’d worked for his family for as long as Sebastian could remember and lived on the grounds, maintaining the property along with the gardeners who came weekly, and the cleaning staff. They only had two live in maids, but their chef was fantastic and had always told Sebastian stories when he’d sat in the kitchen as a child.

“I do so love this estate.” Quinn sighed as her heels crunched in the gravel of the driveway. Taking Quinn’s arm Sebastian escorted her into the house, letting his sister, who was positively beaming with excitement over some frilly blue dress that she still held in a dark shiny box, drag Quinn away, but only after he kissed her goodbye and thanked her for the ride home. Sebastian watcher he leave, kept his vision trained in her direction, his smile affectionate, his eyes narrowed in a way an onlooker could easily misconstrued as lust. This was a game he’d developed for the exact reason he was playing it now, for his father, who stood watching from the doorway.

“Your mother thought you might like the cheering up so we asked Quinn to run and fetch you.” Conrad said, his tone so much kinder in their family home than it had been in the hospital. While they were still playing war games over Sebastian’s life, they were perfect gentlemen in the company of the women in their lives, so home was a neutral space.

“It was the best kind of surprise.” Sebastian smiled, being sure that he could feel the crinkle around his eyes, faking a smile was second nature to him now.

“I received a call from Bernard,” Conrad said, pouring a glass of champagne and orange juice from a pitcher on the tray by the front of the door and handing it to his son. Bernard was one of the particularly grizzly orderlies that reported directly to his father, always an eager little lap dog. Sebastian despised the man, and had for years. “He said your first sessions went increasingly well, especially with your patient, and I do appreciate you taking a look in on mine, but I understand they were mild compared to what you got up to.” Conrad looked so proud in that moment that Sebastian felt a small, childish version of himself purring at the praise which was so rarely genuine. The rest of him wanted to punch his father’s teeth out.

“It was a rough night.” Sebastian admitted, wondering if his father knew he’d had to leave mid session to throw up in the hall. If he did surely he took it to mean Sebastian was still cured of his affliction. If he was being honest, the real reason he’d thrown himself over a trash bin in the hall came from the form of treatment itself. Shock treatments could do such good, and truly help people with sever depression, and unmanageable anxiety, but electrocuting Kurt had felt like torture.

“You’ll adjust, to do real good you have to put aside your hang ups.” Conrad raised his glass to toast Sebastian, who eyed the boozy morning cocktail in his hands uneasily, he didn’t want to drink with the unsettled feeling still churning in his gut. If hang ups included leaving your son in his own sick to help him associate homosexual thoughts with filth and disgust then Sebastian didn’t agree on his fathers definition of doing good.

“I’m going to get some shut eye.” Sebastian said, faking a sip of his drink after the click of fine glass against glass before setting the flute down and turning from his father. As he reached the stairs he turned to Isabella and Quinn who had reappeared, his sister now dressed in the blue silk dress she’d been fawning over in the box. “Have fun at the Anderson party.” He said, tossing a glance back at his father who now wore a steely expression as he stared Sebastian down, daring him to make another comment.

Collapsing into the comfort of his bed Sebastian toed off his shoes, twisting himself out of his jacket and burrowing under the blankets to shut out the bright sunlight pouring in the wide windows that made up one wall. The darkness didn’t help, under the heavy comforter all he could see was Kurt’s face, trusting at first, understanding what was going to happen, then twisting, distorting as the pain became too much and he began to scream. The sound had been so unsettling, Sebastian’s patients were primarily male but Kurt screamed in such a shrill, devastated way that it’s ringing still resounded in the silence. Still, he had to shut it out, had to sleep, then he could return to his work when night came.

 

Kurt sat in the common area of the psych ward, his shoulders slumped, his body enveloped in a large armchair as he studied the tiles on the floor, shutting out the rest of the room. He’d been inconsolable after treatment, Sebastian hadn’t been able to get him to speak, so he’d told one of the orderlies to put him in the common area if he didn’t speak after being woken up for lunch.

“You’re new.” A girl sat on the coffee table in front of Kurt, tapping her cigarette out in the ashtray, just in Kurt’s line of sight. He could tell from her slipper clad feet, and the hem of her blue patients gown that she wasn’t staff, so he raised his head slowly, taking in the sight of a pretty girl with long blonde hair and big happy eyes. She had to be crazy to be smiling like that in here.

Kurt nodded, tugging at the sleeves of his shift to cover the red marks from where the electric shots had been administered, well, where some of them had been applied at least, the ones on his temples were impossible to hide. He jerked back then the girl reached her fingers forward towards him.

“Oh, don’t look so sad puppy.” She pouted, scooting forward on the short table to look into his eyes. “I’m Brittany, I’m not new, maybe I can help you.” She said, brushing Kurt’s hair back gently to look at his head. “Mine were worse.” She tossed her hair back to show Kurt where they’d administered electroshock therapy to her temples. “But I’m better.” She smiled, patting Kurt’s knee. “I don’t even remember what was so bad before, and now I can feel the sunshine even when it’s dark out.” Brittany winked at Kurt. “You should be my friend, we both have blue eyes, what’s your name?” Brittany waited as Kurt stared at her silently, chewing his lip.

“Kurt.” He said finally, the name sounding strange on his tongue, as heavy as the rest of him.

“Good name, I’m Brittany.” She said again, smiling as though she hadn’t already said as much. When Kurt didn’t say anything else Brittany pulled out another cigarette and handed it to Kurt, waiting for him to take it before lighting a match and holding it up for him to light up with. “They only let me have matches in the common room so I spend a lot of time in here, smoking makes me feel like a chimney.” She puffed smoke at him, making Kurt smile just a little. “You’re pretty when you smile.” Brittany cheered, then narrowed her eyes a little as another patient paced by her and made a lewd motion that Kurt assumed meant he wanted to grope her breasts.

“Some people here aren’t so pretty.” She said more softly as she watched Kurt inhale slowly, the smoke curling from his lips almost as though he didn’t have the energy to actually blow it out.

“How long have you been here?” Kurt asked finally, fearing the answer as he watched Brittany tip her long neck to the side, thinking for a little too long.

“A while I guess.” She frowned, fingertips drumming on the side of the table. “I’m not so good with time.” The blonde smiled with her eyes in a way that made Kurt almost believe she was happier this way, but it really just made him wonder what she was like before her treatments.

“When are they going to let you go?” Kurt asked, shifting a little closer.

“Let me go? Oh I’m not sure, but I like it in here, I’m safe in here.” She took his hand gently, head tipping to the side again. “You really don’t like it here.”

“I want to go home.” Kurt said, looking into her blue eyes. For once she stayed quiet, just waiting for him to talk instead of filling the empty space with chatter. She still held his hand her thumb brushing over the back of it soothingly, in the way his mother had years ago. “I miss my dad, and singing, and-” he flinched, chewed at the inside of his cheek and stared at the ground.

“You miss someone special too?” Brittany asked, for a brain-fried girl Kurt couldn’t help but notice she was quick.

“He put me here. So I don’t think I should miss him any more.” He shrunk lower in the chair.

“Don’t be so sad puppy.” Brittany pet his hair again, jumping back as bells clanged loudly. “Back to the rooms.” She called, hands clamped over her ears. “Be good so they let you come back tomorrow.” She said, waving as the bells stopped and all the patients filed to out of the doors, girls on one side, boys on the other.

“Hummel, hold up.” One of the nurses gestured him through the door the boys were leaving through and then took him down a different hall from the one he’d been in before. These rooms were nicer, no one was screaming, all the patients doors were open until they were all in their rooms. In the other hall Kurt’s companions had been locked in the moment they were pushed through the doors. “This will be your room, if you continue to act non violently.” She said, placing a cotton blanket on Kurt’s bed and gesturing to the tray of food on the bedside table. “Please eat your dinner, you’re appointment with Mr. Smythe will begin shortly.” With that she turned on her heel and walked out of his room, letting it lock behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're liking this story, so much more to come!  
> I'd love to hear any comments you might have :)


	4. The Toxic Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian continues treating Kurt, but his father's influence bleeds into the torture.

“Blaine came to me again, a week after the first time, in the field beside the Jazz club.” Kurt twisted his wrist, watching the plastic tube swivel on the stand. “I don’t understand you fried my brain was that not enough?”

“You’ll learn to associate more than one unpleasant unfeeling with these homosexual tendencies.” Sebastian said, plunging the needle into the small bottle of apomorphine and drawing the liquid out, toxic, strong and supposedly scentless, though to Sebastian it reeked of despair. Behind him one of the orderlies watched, noting the exact measurements, no doubt for his father. That was his style, silent, always observing from behind a mask, one way or another he would always be with Sebastian in that room.

“Why do I have to tell you about him? You don’t believe me.” Kurt let his head fall to the side, knuckles white as he clutched the arms of the chair, trying not to rub his skin raw on the restraints as he’d misjudged how much it would hurt the day before.

“So that you can take the most recent, most powerful attraction you have and towards the undesired sex and –“

“You don’t need to waste our time explaining it Sebastian.” One of the orderlies said, it was one of the dogs, the thin man with a wine-colored birthmark over his cheek.

“That’s Dr. Smythe, and I have just recently finished studying the newest understanding of aversion therapy so I’ll thank you not to question me, my father wouldn’t like to hear of you acting out.” He wasn’t the only one afraid of being told on, and the threat stood, both orderlies taking small steps back until they were beside the wall. “Kurt, I’ll be showing images on the slide, same as yesterday, the medicine will be in this tube connected to your arm, I can twist the drip to supply a stronger dose when the images, and the story you’re telling, reach a point of heightened arousal for you.”

“How exactly are we measuring arousal?” Kurt laughed, “I don’t exactly see how this thing on my heart is going to measure how beautiful I find someone if my heart is going to pick up with every image of a man out of fear.”

“Let’s start Kurt, you can’t keep stalling I’m afraid.” Sebastian pats Kurt’s shoulder, his touch cold and barely more than a second before he was turning the drip just a bit, Kurt felt nauseous, he knew there was no way it was in his blood stream yet, but that didn’t change the way his breathing hitched and his stomach twisted.

“Fine.” Kurt glared at the image of a woman, a photo of some pin up girl. “Blaine came back to me, as I said, I didn’t go to him or seek him out.”

“But you were at his club, am I correct?” Sebastian asked, wondering if he could pinpoint where exactly the story he’d been given differed from the version Kurt told.

“Yes, but I worked there, I couldn’t quit my job just because Blaine was a member, and we went a week without so much as a lingering glance or two, on his part.” Kurt isn’t sure if he’s feeling real sickness yet but it seems so much more likely. “He asked me to go sailing, I thought it was going to be the same group from before but- it wasn’t.” Kurt stared down at his hands for a long moment.

“What happened Kurt?”

“Two of the other boys, they’re like Blaine, like me.” Kurt doesn’t want to tell Sebastian, he doesn’t want them locked up alongside him and yet… somehow he doubts they would ever end up in his position.

“Kurt this is for your healing, you aren’t in a position that anyone would take your word, you can speak freely without fear for their safety.” Sebastian says evenly.

“So you think I’m making this up because I’m obsessed with Blaine, but I’m also somehow worried for the safety of two other people who are also gay, but why would I hesitate to name them if it was fiction?” Kurt tried to laugh but now he was feeling sick and the sound came out as more of a groan. When Sebastian didn’t speak or even move, Kurt tried to take a few even breaths before beginning.

“I didn’t know what was going to happen on the boat.” Kurt blurted out. “But the other boys- don’t mind if I don’t trust you, they were obviously a couple, and Blaine had brought a guitar, he wanted to sing with me.” Kurt gripped the arm of the chair, watching as Sebastian twisted the drip so it increased. “The other boys went below deck when we lowered the sails, Blaine and I were drinking.”

_“Do you want another glass?” Blaine’s eyes shone with the reflection of the moon on the water as he leaned back to set his guitar down, striking a match for Kurt to light up his cigarette._

_“The bubbles might get to my head.” Kurt smiled a little shyly, wondering when Nick and Jeff would reappear. He liked Blaine, truly the boy was beautiful and so generous with him, but it was difficult for Kurt to feel like they were equals, and he didn’t want to lose himself in a whirlwind romance._

_“I wanted to apologize.” Blaine leaned closer as he spoke but he didn’t invade Kurt’s personal space._

_“Whatever for?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow, the perfect façade of calm._

_“My grandparents have been in town this past week, and they are, somehow, worse than my own parents.” Blaine dropped his gaze, toying with the end of a rope, tracing the pattern of the knot carefully and avoiding Kurt’s questioning stare. “I wanted to talk to you, and I felt- well I felt like a real cad. I should have sent you a note at the very least.” Blaine let the rope fall from his fingers and held his hand out to Kurt, standing up on the deck. “Dance with me?”_

_“There’s no music.” Kurt tried to argue, but he couldn’t resist the gesture, besides Blaine’s voice was beautiful as he hummed into the still of the night._

“I’m going to be sick.” Kurt had to close his eyes. For people who wanted Kurt to never see Blaine again they sure had supplied the doctor with a lot of pictures of him, and every time the picture changed the medicine was increased, just the slightest bit more but now it was unbearable.

“Please keep your eyes open Kurt, associate these images with the physical sensation.”

“Just make it stop.” Kurt groaned, bending as far forward as he could on the restraints. “Please, I’m going to-” With those words Kurt’s stomach twisted and he vomited, a hot spew of stomach acid hitting his lap, no matter how hard he tried to pull against his restraints, desperate not to be covered in his own sick, the canvas straps held tight.

“It’s alright Kurt, this is supposed to happen, this sickness is good, learn to embrace this feeling, look up at the picture of Blaine.” Sebastian laid his hand gently on Kurt’s shoulder.

“Get off me.” Kurt snarled, anger flaring in his bloodshot eyes as he snapped around, panting heavily, vomit dripping from his chin. He’d shaken Sebastian’s hand off in one jerking motion, but Sebastian felt as though he’d been punched in the gut as he stared into Kurt’s fearful, hate filled eyes.

“That’s enough for today.” Sebastian said, noting the looks mirrored on the orderlies faces, disappointment and anger. “I said that’s enough, take him to the bathes.” Sebastian snapped more aggressively, moving to pull the needle from Kurt’s arm himself, letting it hang freely as he turned away from the others in the room, pressing his hand over his mouth as his own gut churned.

“Yes Doctor.”

 

~

 

“Stop, it burns!” Kurt yelped as the orderlies cornered him in the showers, spraying him down with boiling water, his flesh smarting at it’s touch, clinging to the cotton of his shirt and sleeping pants, holding the heat in.

“Strip.” One of the orderlies laughed, turning the spray of water on Kurt’s face. Shielding his hands as best he could Kurt stumbled out of the steaming clothes, thankful to be rid of the bile drenched fabric even as he felt the burn of the hot water. When the water fell on his burn marks, smarting over his flesh in the most torturous way imaginable, Kurt collapsed onto the cold tile, careful not to block the drain, forcing himself to focus on the way the water swirled around the metal holes in the floor until it ran clear for several minutes. When the water shut off he was dragged to his feet and given back his soaking wet clothes, despite the power washing they weren’t clean but he was forced to put them on or walk naked through the halls as punishment.

Back in his small room, a kindly nurse who had previously introduced herself as Rachel gave him a curious look as he curled up on the metal chair by his bed. He didn’t want to soak his bed, or soil the bed linens, though he wanted nothing more than to be able to curl under the blankets and be dry, be clean.

 

~

 

“Doctor Smythe?” A tall nurse with her brown hair piled high on her head paused nervously outside of Sebastian’s door. She wore all white from her sneakers to the little hat pinned atop her head; she looked starched, clean, and young. She had to be new.

“Yes Nurse?” Sebastian asked, setting down the files he’d been pouring over for a female patient diagnosed with hysteria.

“Nurse Rachel.” The young woman said, biting her lip almost nervously. “I don’t mean to overstep, but it’s about one of your patients in my daily care.” She stepped inside tentatively, trying to decipher if this Dr. Smythe was at all like his father, who she avoided at all costs as he always patted her on the bottom or barked rudely at her.

“Of course, come in, shut the door.” Sebastian said, pulling his reading glasses off and setting them aside as he stood, moving to the other side of his desk, pulling out the consultant chair for her politely.

“Thank you doctor.” Rachel said, fidgeting with a loose strand of her hair after taking a seat.

“Please, you had something to tell me?” Sebastian perched on the edge of his desk, buttoning his white coat carefully.

“It’s about one of your patients. I’m not sure what exactly he’s being punished for but when he was brought back into my wing this afternoon he was wearing filthy clothes and dripping wet, there were puddles in the hall.” Rachel said, her tone rising.

“Puddles?” Sebastian asked in confusion, why would one of his patients be dripping wet? It didn’t make sense.

“I’m not complaining about puddles I’m worried about the patient.” Rachel shot back, her arms crossed over her chest defensively.

“Of course, I’m just not understanding.” Sebastian said, not wanting the nurse to think him callous or cruel, like his father. “Was it Kurt?”

“Hummel?” The nurse asked as though surprised to hear Sebastian calling him by his first name. “Yes, the orderlies stuck around after he was put into his room and I know it’s not my place to question them as they work directly for you, they told me to leave it alone but- it’s cold in those rooms, he was soaking wet and when I looked in on him his skin was red, maybe even blistered from what I assume was a hot water wash down that went on too long.” Rachel paused, realizing she’d babbled on too long and probably overstepped.

“Thank you for coming to me.” Sebastian walked to the door and opened it, peering out into the hall before closing the door again. When he turned back to Rachel he could sense her discomfort, fear even. “I don’t want to be overheard.” Sebastian said carefully, moving around her to the supply closet in his office, taking out a blanket and one of his own sweaters, a large buttoned down grey cardigan that he sometimes wore to keep the chill off at night.

“You’re not mad?” Rachel asked, realizing what Sebastian was doing.

“No, Nurse, Rachel, can I trust you?” Sebastian asked, eyeing the girl up and down. She was just his father’s type and he feared this to be one of his father’s tests. “I am not like my father, nor do I wish to be.” He added. “But you came to me with information regarding the behavior of his lapdogs, so I want to know, can I rely on you to be honest with me?” Sebastian asked, folding the blanket and sweater into a canvas bag.

“I’m new here, I don’t want to get in trouble, but I became a nurse to help people, still I’m only a nurse.” She shrugged, chewing one of her nails as she eyed him up and down. The small gesture reassured Sebastian in a way that little else would have done, she wasn’t a spy.

“Good, please always come to me with information like this, here, show me to his room, please take this bag for me as no one will think twice about you carrying it.” Sebastian handed Rachel the bag before passing her to the door. “Please take me to him.”


End file.
